


The Thunder Situation

by TeamThor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Clint Barton, Friendship, Hurt Bruce Banner, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Sokovia Accords, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 10:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16659607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamThor/pseuds/TeamThor
Summary: Alternate universe where the sokovia accords result in the most powerful avengers being locked away, including a certain god of thunder.Clint Barton isn't having any of it.





	1. Arrows: one for every occasion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is going to be a pretty short hopefully 3 part thing.  
> I've never really written Hawkeye before but I think he doesn't get nearly enough love for being a badass so apologies if it seems a little ooc  
> Also I have no comic knowledge, this is pretty much just a random idea I wanted to jot down

Entering through the halls of shield felt a lot different as a fugitive than when he was an agent. He supposed that was to be expected, though. Back in the day he hadn't needed to prowl across catwalks, crawl through vents and dodge cameras. He'd just been doing it for the fun of it.  
When the Avengers had broken, something inside of him had, too. As much as it endangered him, it had become a part of his life. He missed it- he missed his team. Working together was what made it special, and now it was split down the middle.  
Or at least, it had been.  
What Clint had discovered was that everyone had a line that they wouldn't cross. His was abandoning his family. And apparently Tony Stark's was staying complicit in a deal that meant his friends were being tortured.  
Clint was still mad about the Accords. But, Tony was his friend, and he wanted to help.  
They all had.  
And that was what had lead him to this branch of SHIELD, ducking into parts of the building he'd never been into before. They hadn't been listed on any plans, which lead him to guess they must be new.  
Thaddeus Ross may have been an unfeeling psychopath, but damn the man worked quick.  
The centre was one of a 'special' design, he'd been told. It housed the most powerful of them, the ones that couldn't be contained in an every day under the sea top secret prison.  
When they'd arrived, Cap and Romanoff had split up, heading in the direction of the cell of Doctor Banner.  
And he had been sent to the rescue of the God of Thunder.  
Clint would've chuckled at the irony of it, if the situation had been less depressing. He'd met Thor back when he was a whack-job trying to break into a facility in New Mexico. If someone had buzzed in on his intercom then and told him that this man was the actual Norse God of Thunder, and that the hammer came from a far away planet called Asgard, he probably would've laughed.  
He never imagined he'd be the one breaking him out of SHIELD.  
Clint steadied himself as he peered down over the catwalk, sucking in a sharp breath at what he was presented with.  
The first thing that hit him was just how cold the room was. Maybe Ross had blown his budget on intimidating decor and forgot to turn on the heating, but Christ was it cold.  
The second thing was the size of the contraption below him- it was huge.  
On the surface it seemed normal enough. A large see through box, suspended in the middle of a room about the size of a gymnasium. Bright lights fixed onto it, maybe once shining a clinical white. But with the systems shut down courtesy of Tony Stark, the room was plunged into darkness. Some sort of machine was attached to the top, but Clint was too far away to figure out exactly what it was.  
And of course, he wasn't here for technology.  
His hands fumbled with the headset before he managed to get the damn thing working.  
"Cap, I'm in. Cell's just below me. Ross really went all out on security measures, though. It's insane."

It took a moment for a response to come, but the com soon crackled into life, the Captain's voice tinged with concern through the static. "You think you can crack it?"

"I said it was insane, not impossible." A small grin graced Clint's face as he loaded up an arrow from his quiver.  
"Besides, I like a challenge. It's gonna be nice to get one over on Thor for a change."

"That's good to hear. Romanoff is working on Banner as we speak, so we should be out of here soon. Check in after you've got him out of there, alright?"

"You got it, Cap." Clint reached up, switching off the device, and cutting the static short.  
He needed his full focus for this, and the buzzing of static really didn't help. Not that the silence of the room was any better.  
Thor was, by all accounts, a loud guy. He laughed loudly, he fought loudly. And he should've been protesting loudly, too. Clint had expected to walk in to find him yelling in Shakespearean, casting thunder bolts off the walls and threatening to treat the whole prison staff to 'the power of Asgard'. But instead what he got was quiet. Deafening, awful, quiet.  
He tried to shake off the jitters as best he could, and brought the bow up to his chest, tilting his head as he examined his route with a clinical precision.  
The arrow flew to the darkness of the ceiling, the small clinking sound it made letting Clint know that it had found its target.  
A long, black coil of rope dangled from its tail, and Clint tugged on it. As much as he liked a challenge, he much less enjoyed plummeting from a catwalk onto a metal floor.  
It seemed to hold well enough, and soon he was gliding down until his feet gently touched the ground.

"Hey, Thor. You in there, buddy?" He approached the cell quietly, his voice lowered to a whisper.  
He could see a shape in the corner of the box, sprawled out on the floor. It didn't make any response to his call, which meant that a) he couldn't hear him because of the glass, or much less comforting b) he couldn't hear him because of something they'd done.  
Cautiously, he approached the cell, one hand delving into his belt to retrieve a small flashlight.  
Perhaps he'd gain a response if Thor could actually see him.  
The beam of light shone through, and Clint immediately wished he hadn't turned it on.  
Thor was there, and he didn't look good.  
He was laid on his side, back pressed up against the opposite wall of the cage. His skin was pale and littered with bruises, and the only comfort Clint could find was that he at least knew the God was breathing- each puff of air outlined in white as it hit the cold of the cell.  
Clint gingerly reached up a hand, tapping on the glass.  
"Thor. It's Clint. Can you hear me?"

That seemed to garner a response, albeit not a comforting one. The God shifted in his position, eyes blearily opening to look at Clint. Unfocused, glassy, and definitely far from consciousness. But it was something. 

"...Barton?" Thor stirred further, lifting his head from the wall. "It's cold in here."

Clint blinked in surprise, but decided to keep the conversation going as he sorted through his equipment. Better to keep the guy awake and talking.  
"It's cold out here, too. Nice and warm on the quin-jet, though."

"Oh." Thor tried to push himself up, but froze mid-way, and sank back down to slump against the wall. "You are here to rescue me, then?"

"You bet. Just gotta figure out how I'm going to get you out of that box, first."

"It's not usually you." 

Clint looked up at that, brow wrinkling in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"It is usually Steven who comes to save me." Thor paused, waving in Clint's general direction. "I mean no offense, I have no doubts in your ability to break me from this confinement. It's just the last few times it hasn't been you." 

"What do you mean, the last few times?" Clint selected a few tailored arrows from his quiver, quietly thanking God for stark-tech. Say what you will about Stark, but he sure as hell can make an arrow. 

"It's...it's the routine." Thor let his eyes slip shut again, folding his arms across his lap. "You - or Steven - save me, we escape, then I have to use my powers to get us out. Then everything...hurts. And I wake up back here."

A sinking feeling developed in Clint's stomach, as his eyes wandered back up to the ominous machine suspended above the cage.  
A battery.  
Ross had taken the God of Thunder and turned him into a battery.  
He gritted his teeth, gripping the arrows tightly in his hand, turning his knuckles white.  
He didn't know Thor as well as he'd like to. Hell, he didn't think anyone on the team did. But the guy was an Avenger, through and through. More importantly he was a friend.  
And you did not let your friends get hurt.

Clint jumped up onto the side of the cell, attaching the four arrows to one face of the cube. He tried to ignore the God's ramblings as he did so, each word seeming to make the situation worse than it was. Apparently that was how they'd been harvesting electricity from him. Tricking him with hallucinations, then taking the electricity he conjured and using it to power the building.  
There was something else, too. Clint knew damn well that a cell with this structure couldn't hold Thor, at least not at full power. His friends unfocused expression and slow movements told him enough- they'd probably given him something to keep that power under wraps.  
He guessed it was something in the air, and brought up a mask around the bottom half of his face. 

"Alright, I'm gonna blow the face off of this thing. Just stay back there."  
Clint backed up from the cell, hand coiling around a detonator.  
Thor seemed to take his advice, at least, and pushed himself a little further away from the flashing red lights of the arrows. 

Clint steadied himself with a breath, mind racing ahead. Once they blew the doors off of this thing, the building would turn to chaos. Alarms, guards, emergency measures, probably amped up extremely to deal with a possible Thunder situation.  
So, it was just an average Tuesday then.  
Clint kept his eyes on the door, thumb hovering over the button on the detonator.  
And then he pressed down.


	2. Corridor blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the cage doors open, Clint and Thor make their escape.  
> Or at least, they try to. Thor struggles to break out of the midguardians spell, and Clint has time for an existential crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! A lot of people liked this one, which made me so happy to see you guys are enjoying my garbage  
> This one was very late, the endgame trailer hurt me and so I had to take a few months to just lie in a gutter and cry

For a moment, the world collapsed into fire. Smoke rolled off the shattered cage, the once pristine floors scorched black with the heat of the explosion. Above him, alarms blared, and the hallways where lit red with a hellish light.   
Clint picked his way through the shattered glass, boots crunching on the floor as he approached the box. Sparks flew from the now broken mechanism, smoke covering the floor and pooling around his ankles.  
Clint found himself thanking Stark-tech a second time when he lifted himself up onto the cages door, the tactical gloves sheltering his hands from the shards of glass that were sprinkled across the floor like salt.   
Damn good thing that Thor was Asgardian, because the guy didn't look any worse for wear than when Clint had first got in here. His eyes had even cleared slightly, although it was nowhere near the bright puppy - dog energy that Clint had come to know from the Thunder God. The icey blue was still fogged over with a vacant sadness, like he was recalling some almost forgotten nightmare from centuries past.   
Hell, maybe that's what he was doing. He certainly had plenty to choose from. Clint had attended that guys 1500th birthday and was sorely reminded of the age at the horrendous amount of candles Stark had tried to stick on a cake. 

Things had been different, then. Pieces of paper couldn't rip the team apart, and it didn't take a suit wearing psychopath like Ross to bring them back together again.

"I think it's time for us to make an exit, don't you?" Clint shook himself free of his funk, extending a hand down to Thor while yanking the protective mask down away from his face. 

Whatever drug they'd been pumping in must've been something they used to tranquilize dinosaurs (a contingency plan Clint knew Fury had), because Thor was in a pretty bad way. The Asgardian didn't even seem to have registered that Clint was talking to him. 

"Thor." He said a little louder, crouching down with concern in his eyes and voice. His hand reached up, patting the God on the cheek gently to try and rouse at least some kind of response. He'd even take a weird Shakespearean anecdote at this point, just something that could tell him his friend hadn't been broken.   
"We have to go." 

Thor blinked harshly, like a light had been shone in his face. The lights, the alarms, the smoke. It was all suddenly way too close, the danger almost real enough to hurt.   
Maybe the shards of glass edging closer was what had snapped him out of it. Or perhaps it was the sound of Clint, his friend, who's unflappable optimism was wavering because he wouldn't move.   
He nodded, more to himself than to anyone else. Maybe this was all a trick. Maybe he'd wake up alone in the same cold box, his body aching from the lightning that had been forced from his veins.   
But it couldn't hurt to try, one last time.

When Thor placed his calloused hand in Clint's, making an attempt to heave himself to his feet, Clint breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Pulling the God to his feet was a bit more of a challenge (Jesus, the guy was huge) but it was done.   
Thor's arm was slung over his shoulder, and soon enough they were making their way to the looming double doors, the emergency exit lit up in red. He caught Thor passing a lingering glance at the broken box behind them, and felt his own grip on the Gods wrist grow tighter.

"Cap?" Clint clicked his intercom, the buzzing of static reaching his ears. There was broken speech coming through the other line, and he couldn't catch a lot of it.

"Explosion-" Cap's voice broke through, sounding exasperated. "Was that you?"

"Yup." Clint barely managed to bite back a grin, jamming another arrow into the keypad that kept the steel doors bolted shut. "How's Banner?"

There was a fumbling sound coming from the radio now, as if it was exchanging hands, and the voice was suddenly the familiar tones of Natasha Romanoff.   
"He's fine. Well, fine-ish. We're almost at the quin-jet now." She paused. "You got Thor?"

"Ish." Clint stepped back from the pad as the arrow beeped rapidly, an electronic pulse knocking out the door systems, leaving the lights unilluminated and the mechanism open.   
"They've given him something to keep the sparks under wraps. He thinks he's hallucinating."

Clint could almost hear Natasha frowning from the other end of the com. When her voice finally came, it was oddly quiet, subdued, or as much as it could be.   
"Stay safe, Clint. Don't get shot." 

He chuckled as he adjusted his position, so he could push the door open with his boot without giving the thunder God a face full of floor. "Wouldn't dream of it. I'll see you in a few, Nat." He brought his hand away from the intercom, staring into the dark corridor ahead.   
"Come on." He swallowed, nervously.   
"We're getting out of here."

 

The hallways looked different in the dark. He was so used to leaping from vent to vent, catwalk to catwalk. He'd even carried that habit home with him to the barn, but it had made his kids and wife smile, so it didn't seem like too much of an issue then.   
But now?  
Now, he was regretting not looking through them from the ground more often. Because in the dark, shrouded in shadows that made monsters out of chairs, it was frighteningly unfamiliar. 

And as much as he loved the guy, Thor wasn't helping. 

"There's so much I regret not saying, Barton. I just...I never thought this would be how it went. That I'd die in a box designed by midguardians. I thought I was supposed to protect them." 

"You were. You are. Look, just-"   
Clint whipped his head up sharply as a metallic clang sounded through the dark, straining his eyes into the shadows.   
Nothing. Or at least, nothing he could see.   
He let out an exasperated sigh, trudging forward. "You're not going to die here, Thor. I'm gonna get us out of this." 

Thor shut his eyes, pressing his free hand hard against them until yellow spots danced in front of his vision. "This really is a most hideous illusion. I'm actually starting to believe you." 

"Yeah, well, I'm very persuasive. You should see me convincing my kids to eat their vegetables."  
Clint rounded a corner, the alarms of the cell fading to the back of his mind.  
His kids. His wife. His home.  
All that could've been taken from him, because he'd decided to fight for what was right. The Accords had come so close to ruining both of his families, splitting one in half and forcing the other underground.   
All because Thaddeus 'lure it to Harlem' Ross and the brilliant board of politicians who wanted to nuke New York in 2012 had decided they were the authority on right and wrong.

Thor was still rambling, although at some point in their journey he'd moved on into Asgardian. He caught a few names here and there, Odin, Jane, Loki. That last one still made him bristle, but he'd decided now really wasn't the time to take up Thor's previous offer after the Battle of New York to make up for Loki's mind games with a 'night of glorious revelry'.   
Later, perhaps. When all this was done and the dust was settled and the gleam had come back into his friends eyes. Then he could start rebuilding his family. 

Clint stopped sharply, clamping one hand firmly over Thor's mouth.   
Up ahead.  
Voices.   
The low buzz of military men speaking into coms, the squeak of tactical boots against polished floors.   
Soldiers.  
Clint cursed through gritted teeth, ducking behind an overturned filing cabinet. He sat Thor down by the wall, casting him a worried glance in case he started talking again.  
His condition was pushing a growing gnawing feeling of worry into Clint's gut. Even the way he sat, it was like his body was becoming a burden to him.   
Like once he went down, he wouldn't be able to get back up.   
And seeing the God of Thunder like that? That was truly terrifying. 

But even in this state he seemed to get the message, and simply stared back at Clint, brow furrowed in confusion. He gestured to him, and then ahead, as if to ask:  
'What?'

Clint put a finger to his lips, peeking out between the slats of the cabinet. He counted 10, 15...20. 20 highly trained operatives sent to stop him from taking their power source.  
Well, he couldn't deny that he was flattered. But the officials had chosen a rather bad moment to appreciate his talent, because he didn't have that many arrows left.  
And he had a nearly unconscious god of thunder to worry about. 

"Hey!"   
The bright light of a scope shone in his eyes, and Clint shot backwards behind cover. 

A whole new set of alarms went off, the pounding sirens grating against his ears.   
Clint rested his forehead against the cabinet, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to come up with something. Anything.

"Clint." Thor reached forward, tugging against his sleeve.

"Thor, you gotta get down. They'll see you." He attempted to push the other man back to the floor, but didn't meet the same weak resistance as before.  
No, now Thor was looking at him with something new. He looked...sad. Resigned to a fate that he didn't want to be a part of.   
Or plunged into a war between friends, where every side was the wrong one. 

"For what it's worth, it was nice to see you again." Thor began to rise to his feet, ignoring all of Clint's protests for him to get back down, to take cover, to do anything but this.

A low thrum of electricity filled the air as he raised his hands above his head. The guards began shouting anew, and he caught Thor clench his fists as sparks of electricity began to dance between his fingers. "Thor, listen to me, for once. We can figure a way out of this. You don't have to-"

"Maybe they'll send someone else next time. But I hope they send you. It's oddly befitting, is it not?" His unfocused eyes wandered over towards the group of soldiers, and he tried for a worn smile; an echo of the loud grin that had shone like the sun through the Avengers compound what seemed like years ago.   
"I'll see you next time, then."

The thrum grew into something resembling a roar. Fluorescent lights shattered in their bulbs, and the Gods veins lit up with a voltage that could power a city.   
Then he opened his hands, and the world exploded into thunder.


	3. Clint and Thor go on a plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story behind a defeat that Thor would never end up sharing, and the completion of a rescue 2 chapters in the making

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! So, I might do an epilogue chapter after this, but this is pretty much the ending to the main story. I hope you enjoyed!  
> Please let me know in the comments if you have any requests for a short story, or heck, even a long one!

_Thor couldn't say he believed in prophecies. He'd heard of them, of course. He'd grown up with them. Tales of the Norns, who decided the fate of each and every Asgardian were told by his mother every single night. He'd lay awake long after that, staring at the stars in the night sky, wondering what the Norns had in store for him._  
_But that was when he was a child, and things were simple._  
_So much had happened since then, so much had changed, that he couldn't put it down to the Norns anymore. He was the God of Thunder, the King of Asgard, and absolutely the strongest Avenger. He was in charge of his own destiny now._

_Maybe that's why he hadn't felt as threatened by Ross as he probably should be when he was walking down the corridors that morning. Fate was his own, and the feeling of dread that something would go wrong that was building in his chest would only mean something if he allowed it. If he kept his head up high, and his wits about him, then things would be fine._

_After all, what on earth could Thaddeus Ross do?_

_He didn't have Stark's mind, or Natasha's combat skills, or Clint's heart.  
This was just a man in a suit. And Thor was a God. _

_So when Banner had gone missing, he'd volunteered almost immediately to be the one to go. After all, Banner had only missed the signing of the accords because of Sakaar, and Thor couldn't help but feel just a little responsible. He couldn't say for certain that he understood the politics of the contracts, or the rift between the Avengers, but he understood what Ross could do. What he'd already done._

_And that was how he found himself marching down the halls of the compound, cape adorned with a flourish, and fingers itching with unreleased lightning.  
His temper had mellowed considerably in years, far from the reckless spirit he once was. _

_But if this Ross had hurt Bruce Banner?_

_Well, he wasn't above a mild electrocution, put it that way._

_Thor didn't want to give Ross a chance to explain, storming into the room that a shaky-looking guard had pointed out with a clenched jaw and fists wound tight.  
Now, Thor was not nervous. He told himself that repeatedly, drumming it into his head in time with his own heavy footsteps. He was a God among mortals, he was an Avenger, and he was not intimidated by stacks of paper and snide comments, no matter the power they seemed to wield. It didn't matter what the Accords said. What mattered was Banner, was making sure he was alright, that he wasn't hurt, that everything was fine and would remain so until Thor gave the universe explicit permission to screw him over._

_In fact, he was so adamantly not nervous that he didn't notice Ross wasn't actually there until he was about 10 seconds in to his long list of threats._

_"Are you done?" A voice, Ross's voice, crackled into life from an intercom._

_Thor folded his arms defensively. "Bruce Banner isn't currently standing in front of me, so, no. I am not." He took a step forward, eyes catching sight of a security camera nestled in the corner of the room.  
"Where is he?" _

_"He's fine. We're keeping him safe, for now."_

_"Keeping him?" Thor scoffed, a familiar coil of anger beginning to twist in his gut. "He is not some animal in need of caging. Bruce Banner is one of the greatest minds of your generation, and a dear friend of mine. If you so much as lay a finger on him, I swear I'll-"_

_"You'll what, exactly?" The cold tones echoed off of the metal panelled walls, filled with a faceless confidence.  
"We're keeping him here in accordance with the Sokovia Accords, which you'd know, if you bothered to read them. All priority ones are to be kept in the custody of the state. Which in fact, brings us to you." _

_The lightning in his fingers was beginning to burn, small bursts of blue light running just a little too close to the surface of his skin. This didn't feel right, none of it did. Like it was some reference that he hadn't quite caught, but everyone was staring and expecting it to click._

_Still, he was a warrior of Asgard. And he kept his voice steady as he offered his next comment.  
"What about me?" _

_"You're a priority 1, Thor. That light show of yours causes damage, and we need to monitor it."_

_A small smile pricked the corners of his face, although it never quite reached his eyes. "I'm a God, Ross. I command the elements at my will. And I can very easily break down that door, walk out, and take Banner myself if you do not allow it."_

_"I'm sure you could, Thor. But I doubt you could reach Banner in the time it'd take me to pull a trigger."_

_Ah, there it was._  
_That cold feeling in his stomach, a tight knot of dread that clawed it's way up his throat and brought a tremor to his hands._  
_He could try and make a break for it. Cause enough damage structurally and the building would come falling down, and he'd be fine, and of course Hulk would keep Banner safe, a-_

_"I can see you planning, and I assure you, it won't work. Hulk's out of commission, for now. So I strongly suggest you cooperate."_

_It was the cold indifference that hurt the most. If the voice above him had made theatrical threats, large speeches all wrapped up with a nice evil cackle he would've been fine. But Ross's voice held no such contempt. When he said that it wasn't personal, Thor truly believed him._  
_This was just business to him.  
He never thought he'd say this, but he was really starting to miss Surtur. _

_Thor's next reply was taught, the deep tones of his voice tightened to a hiss that he almost didn't recognise.  
"What would you have me do?" _

_A door slid open in front of him, revealing a large, glass box. Not unlike the one on the Helicarrier, and Norns did that seem like so long ago. There was some machine attached to the top, but he couldn't really make out what it was. It certainly wasn't anything Stark had shown him. Starks technology was filled with bright colours, his tiny robots had names and personalities, his A.I was polite and civil.  
This contraption was dark, and cold. Lifeless. _

_Thor felt a shiver run down his spine, as the front compartment of the door slid open._

_"Into the box, please. We can negotiate from there. "_

 

Clint hurt.  
His vision was dotted with yellow spots, luminous trails left behind by the lightning.  
His ears ached, a pounding headache muffling the sounds around him, his own heart hammering in his head.  
His lungs burnt and he recoiled at he smell of molten metal, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes to try and clear his head. 

He moved slowly, each breath feeling like a stab in his chest, but eventually got to his feet. The air around him seemed to clear somewhat, and finally the lights in his vision died down enough so he could see a few feet in front of him. So he could see the figure of Thor, standing ahead of him, in what seemed to be typical heroic fashion. Eyes ablaze with white light, broad shoulders square, chin tilted in defiance at where the soldiers now lay, scattered. 

It was all quite impressive, until his knees buckled from underneath him, and he hit the tiled floors with a resounding 'crack'. 

"Oh, son of a..." Clint muttered to himself, darting forward over broken glass and burnt machinery to grab the shoulder of his friend, tilting him onto his back.  
Apparently Thor's face had actually managed to shatter the floor, rather than his nose, which Clint wouldn't lie was rather impressive.  
But, he wasn't here to compliment the durability of Thor's face. A quick glance towards the guards showed that they were still breathing, but stunned. For now. Clint didn't know exactly how long they had left, but he knew they needed to move. Now. 

"Thor, buddy, I'm sorry but we have to go." He shook his shoulder, a familiar feeling of panic beginning to grab at his stomach.  
"I can't carry you, you need to help me, okay? We're so close to getting out of here." 

A couple of nerve wracking seconds of silence passed, with only the ringing in Clint's ears to accompany him. That was until the demigod in question let out a pained groan, rolling onto his side. 

"Clint?" Thor blearily opened his eyes, pushing himself up onto his knees. "... We're still here?"

"You know it, big fella." Clint breathed a sigh of relief as he hooked Thor's arm over his shoulders, grunting slightly as he lifted them both to his feet. 

"You're real. This is real." Thor's voice was growing in enthusiasm, sparks still flying off from his arms and hands. "By the Norns, you're real!" 

"Oh, now he realises!" Clint chided, but he couldn't hide the faint grin passing across his dust covered features.  
Thor was still far from himself, slumped against Clint with an uncharacteristic limp, but the bright eyes, the sun-bright smile, the lightning?  
The thunder god was most definitely back in business. 

They stayed huddled together as they made their way out towards the exit, stepping over the slumped figures of the soldiers scattered about like a child's playthings.  
Clint made a mental note to talk over that particular lightning blast with Thor at a later date, when their lives weren't in actual peril. Because as impressive as it had been, it was terrifyingly new. Thor's lightning was a weapon, a tightly controlled force that he wielded with the same strength as his hammer. Clint had always compared it to martial arts, something that he'd received plenty of groans for, but the comparison was there. It was something to be learned, to be applied.  
That explosion had been anything but. Arcs of lightning had torn from Thor's body almost viciously, ripping out along the corridor in an untameable mass of thunder and sparks. He'd taken out 20 guys, just by raising his fists, and damn did it look like it hurt. 

Thor's breathing was getting haggard by the time Clint saw light from outside, and heard the familiar thrumming of the quinjets engines. He caught sight of Cap's uniform, the stars and stripes disappearing into the hull with what looked like the unconscious form of doctor Banner slung over his shoulders. He saw a familiar head of red hair, hanging out of the hangar doors, eyes squinting towards the horizon, looking for something. 

Looking for him. 

Clint's face broke out in a grin as he hurried his steps, using his foot to kick open the last remaining door, and quietly thanking every god under the sun for the breath of fresh air that hit his face.  
They left the shadows of the institute behind, and he tried to ignore just how faint Thor's voice was getting as he neared the plane. 

He assumed he'd have to apologize extensively later when he all but threw Thor's tired form at Cap when he emerged, muttering a quiet but sincere expression of gratitude before darting around him to reach Natasha.  
Weary smiles were exchanged, and after what seemed like years the quinjet finally began to leave the ground behind. 

He sank into a chair, peeling off his gloves and letting out a loud sigh of relief to the sky as he ran his hands over his face.  
"Remind me never to do any of that, ever again, ever." 

"Reminder made." Natasha sank down heavily beside him, stretching out like a cat in the sun. A couple of seconds of comfortable silence passed before Clint felt a hand on his shoulder, and was met with Natasha's worn grin.  
"Hey. We got them back."

Clint's eyes wandered over to the med bay, and he finally let the tension begin to leave his shoulders.  
"Yeah." He kicked his feet up against the table, choosing to tactically ignore Cap's protests from the control panel.  
"We really did."


End file.
